


laugh right into my tears

by oliviathecf



Series: Kinktober 2018 [3]
Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Forever Evil (Comics)
Genre: Blood Kink, Earth-3, Edging, Kinktober, Kinktober 2018, Knifeplay, M/M, crime syndicate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-24 23:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16185575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliviathecf/pseuds/oliviathecf
Summary: For Kinktober 2018. Day Three.Owlman plays as rough as he wants to.





	laugh right into my tears

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to do some Earth-3 for quite awhile. Especially since I love Power Ring so much. So here it is.
> 
> Title is from "Balsa Wood Bones" by Saint Motel.
> 
> Enjoy!

If someone had told Harold that he would be given the most powerful weapon in the universe and join a team of people who would work to take over the world, he would pointedly ignore that person and look down to continue cleaning the floor at Ferris Air.

If that person also told him that he would mostly be used as entertainment for the same people that he was supposedly on a team with, he would probably run away. Run away, like he wanted to do now, with Owlman looming over him with a small smile on his face.

When did a smile become scarier than a frown, teeth gnashing together, Harold really didn’t know but he figured that it had to do with countless similar situations. Owlman, looming over him with a smile on his face and a weapon in his hand. It was a combination that had Harold shaking and starting to cry from the start.

“Pathetic.” Owlman sneered, and Harold knew that he liked it.

Volthoom had so helpfully gotten him naked the moment Thomas had asked, it wasn’t like he ever listened to Harold any way. He saw the way that Thomas’ eyes trailed down his body, from his eyes down to his cock, and he knew that he was into it.

Of course, he’d probably deny it. The rest of them would too, Harold was nothing but a crying mess who relied too much on his ring and the good will of the others because they hadn’t killed him. Not yet at least, if only because Volthoom would protect him. At least, that was what they all told themselves. Truth be told, he served a purpose. Maybe it wasn’t a purpose he exactly wanted to serve but it was a purpose that he learned to enjoy.

Or maybe he was forced into enjoying it. Either way, Owlman was caressing his chest with the blade of a knife almost reverently, cigarette perched between his lips precariously. The ashes hit Harold’s chest and he flinched, whining softly.

Not like it mattered what he thought. Not when Owlman was staring down at him with wide eyes and pushing down with the knife harder and harder. He could feel it splitting his skin, digging in, making him whine again, louder this time.

“N-No...please d-don’t!” He whimpered, already starting to stutter.

Thomas’ eyes watched the trickle of blood that flowed out of the wound, running down from his stomach and onto the concrete floor that he had Harold pinned against.

“You’re already trembling,” He murmured, digging in deeper with the knife and creating another wound that bled, “Already hard.”

He was, it was true. Already aching for any form of touch. Owlman ground up lazily against him and he arched into it, letting out a low moan and thinking that it wasn’t his fault. He was trained for this like some fucking dog, to accept pleasure from even the most painful touch.

Owlman sat up, pulling the cigarette from his lips and digging the cherry of it into his skin unceremoniously. Harold cried out, arching up hard into the burning heat of it and wondering if he was always this fucked up or if was learned behavior. The most fucked up member of the Syndicate would survive the longest, the one who learned to kiss the most ass and Harold wasn’t in any hurry to die.

Another lie he told himself, he would thank the person who ended up killing him, freeing him from the life he led. He was part fascinated, part terrified by death, and he wondered how it was going to come to him. If he would go out with a bang or if Ultraman would get tired of him one day and destroy him on the spot. Some days, it was all he could think about, Harold romanticized the idea of being able to meet his end one day.

But it was never under Owlman as he dragged a knife down his stomach. The tip circled around his cock and, finally, hot tears started to leak down his cheeks. It was the reaction Owlman seemed to be waiting for, the hand not holding a knife reaching down and circling it almost gently.

He gave Harold one stroke, two strokes, but it wouldn’t be enough. It wasn’t supposed to be enough, not when Thomas was moving back into his spread legs. He freed his own cock from his costume, huge and thick with arousal, and Harold knew where it was going the moment he saw it.

Thomas had a routine, he was just as predictable as the rest of them even if he was often the one who ended up on top. A coincidental thought, considering that his plan of action usually involved taking Harold hard and pretty much dry. Thomas spat into his hand, a nasty sound that had him shivering for another reason other than pure terror, and slicked himself up before positioning the head of his cock up against Harold’s entrance and thrusting all the way in without warning.

Harold knew it was coming but that didn’t stop him from arching up hard into that knife and screaming at the top of his lungs. He was sobbing, wishing that the knife had sunk into his chest and killed him on the spot as Thomas started up a rhythm that he could feel was tearing him from the inside out.

“N-No, oh my God, O-Owlman, please!” He cried out, all in one breath, the tears already soaking his face.

He couldn’t really say what he was asking for, a thought entering his mind without him being able to stop it. That this was what he was made for, that this was all he was good for. Despite the pain, his erection never flagged and Owlman noticed that.

“You’re sick, Power Ring. Getting off on this, you’re leaking cum.” Owlman practically purred, chuckling as he started stroking Harold’s cock.

Too caught up in it, he hadn’t noticed that Owlman’s rhythm was starting to stutter until he slammed in hard and came just as hard. With a low moan, Thomas came violently, the knife digging in just a bit too deep. Harold thrust up into his hand and Owlman pulled back, giving a breathy laugh.

“You’re not cumming. Not until I say it’s okay.”

And Harold knew he was in for a long, long night.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave some hate (or love) here or on my tumblr:
> 
> [ Fic blog. ](http://fanfictionolivia.tumblr.com/)
> 
> This is a part of Kinktober 2018. Feel free to read them all in order or pick and choose what you're interested in! Check back throughout the month of October for more.


End file.
